Coming Attractions For June 2015
Hello hello hello hello hello, fans of the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette who live all over the world! Guy Hogan is my name and flash fiction is my game. Welcome to today’s issue of Pittsburgh’s premiere blog of commentaries, pop culture, sexy short stories and sex as art and entertainment.
How’s everyone doing?
Well, June 2015 will be here in a few days. This is what we have to look forward to…I’ve published several erotic flash fiction stories over the years by Anna Bayes and I’m going to publish another one in June. You don’t want to miss the work of this talented writer.
For some reason I did not publish a post in May about the karaoke scene at Nico’s in Little Italy on Saturday nights. I plan to correct that oversight in June.
And we can expect more videos from Mr. Skin and from the women of Naked News and a continuing stream of nude pinups from our friends at Egotastic!
And I’m always on the look out for interesting samples from The Huffington Post.
Add to all of this any insights about life and writing that I may be able to add to the mix and I hope the June issue of my little girlie magazine will either entertain or inform or inspire you.
Autobiographical Flash Fiction
Are you a writer? Do you ever get writers block? I know I do. I’ve found that sometimes I can break out of my writer’s block just by writing some autobiographical flash fiction; because I don’t have to make anything up.
Jack Kerouac, the author of On The Road which I’ve read several times, was well known for being a very autobiographical writer throughout his entire career. He was so autobiographical that his publishers had to get him to chance the real names of the real people he wrote about doing the real things he described them doing in his novels. Well, Jack Kerouac lived a life that was made for fiction.
But even if you don’t live large like Jack Kerouac (I know I sure as hell don’t), you can still write excellent autobiographical flash fiction if you are well grounded in the form of the flash fiction story. I hope the desire to become well grounded in the form of the flash fiction story is one of the reasons you read this blog. Just remember this: there are no boring stories, only boring writers.
The following story, that takes place in my favorite bar (Armand’s in Little Italy) is exactly the way it happened. It’s an old story and I made nothing up.
This is the Old Soldier reporting from Pittsburgh.
Weather Report: Today in Pittsburgh there will be a mix of clouds and sunshine with the possibility of thunder showers and the high in the 80s.
I sat down at the bar and the woman who sat on the stool to my left began to tell me about the death of an old boyfriend. She was a senior citizen like me and her old boyfriend had shot himself in the head. I knew her to see her. She was a regular. She used a cane. She said I knew him, her old boyfriend. She told me his name. I didn’t recognize the name. She said I’d probably seen him in the bar; and now he was dead.
The bartender came over and took my order. He brought back a large draft and he told me that sure I knew her old boyfriend. Reddish hair. A short reddish beard. Always wore a Steelers cap and football jersey.
I said I still didn’t remember him. And I didn’t.
The bartender wandered away. The woman kept talking about her dead boyfriend. I guess she had to get it out. I looked around at the other customers and then looked at her. Drank my beer and nodded as she talked. I forget what was on the televisions, one at each end of the bar.
The poor bastard shot himself in the head.
It happened only a couple of days ago. He had tried to call her on her cellphone, but since they had more or less broken up months before she wanted to make a clean break and didn’t answer the calls. Then he shoots himself in the head. She just couldn’t understand how people could kill themselves. Okay, maybe pills. But to shoot yourself in the head? To jump off a bridge or out of a window? Now he was dead.
The bartender wandered over and said he should have known something was wrong. The night before he shot himself he was in here and he asked me if I wanted some of his stuff he was getting rid of. I didn’t want it. Something told me, he’s going to do something. The bartender walked away.
The woman said, I’ve outlived all my old boyfriends. They’re all dead. One had a heart attack. Another died of cancer. And this one shot himself in the head. I just don’t understand how you do that.
A friend of mine shot herself in the head, she went on. The two kids were upstairs and her husband was in the living room. She walked into the living room and put the barrel under her chin and pulled the trigger. How do you do that to little kids? What kind of mother does that?
She finished her draft, got off the stool, slipped on her coat and gathered up her purse and cane. She said, “It’s good to see you.”
I caught the bartender’s attention and paid for another large drat beer.